


A Promise Made

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke learns that Sebastian betrayed Anders to the templars. Now he must race to save his lover before it's too late</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise Made

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by Anders' fantasy he tells Hawke about in Mark of the Assassin about being rescued, and somewhat inspired by this lovely piece of art here: http://sirinne.deviantart.com/art/40-387651455 by Sirinne on deviantART.

"You… did what?"

A cold numbness spread through Hawke, an icy chill coursing in his veins. Sebastian quelled ever so slightly under his angry stare. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"I gave the Templars his name and the location of his clinic."

"And why," said Hawke, stepping forward, taking little pleasure in Sebastian's fear as the other man stepped back, "would you do something like that to our friend?"

"He's not my friend, Hawke. You know what he is. He's dangerous."

"But he is _my_ friend," Hawke growled. "And you all but sealed his fate. His execution."

"I doubt they'd go that far," Sebastian said, holding his hands out, palms up. He glanced left and right, looking behind Hawke nervously. It was late, however, and the chantry was empty. There was nowhere for him to run or hide. "It's for his own good."

Sebastian's reflexes were honed, but even he couldn't sidestep the fist that flew at him. Hawke connected solidly, a sickening crunch reverberating in the silence as Sebastian's nose broke. He fell to the ground, clutching his face, blood flowing from between his fingers. Hawke turned and bolted, not waiting for retaliation. He would confront Sebastian again later. Every minute that passed now, Anders was in more danger.

He should've listened to Anders sooner. Should've paid more attention when he was describing his suspicions of the Knight-Commander's plans. If Anders was right, if there was a plot to make every mage in Kirkwall Tranquil in a few years' time, they had to stop it. And Hawke would be damned if the Templars would start with his lover. He had promised Anders they would look into it together, and he regretted dragging his feet. Later, he'd thought. There would be plenty of time to gather information. Now, time was up and he needed to find Anders - quickly.

He headed straight for the Gallows, racing across the courtyard to where Thrask stood, speaking with a recruit. Seeing the look on Hawke's face, Thrask excused himself at once and led Hawke aside. They'd been working closely the last few years to root out the corruption amongst the Templar order, and Thrask was Hawke's only chance of finding where Anders might have been taken.

"What is it?" Thrask asked in a whisper.

"Anders," Hawke panted. "He's gone. Taken by Templars. Someone I thought was a friend turned him in."

Thrask's jaw tightened. "Stay here. I'll check the logs to see if any apostates were brought in recently."

Hawke nodded. With more speed than he thought Thrask capable of, the elder man took off toward the Templar Hall. Hawke glanced around the yard, feeling sick and panicked. He knew Sebastian had no way of knowing the true relationship between himself and Anders. But, he thought, he doubted it would've changed Sebastian's mind. Anger overrode panic briefly as he thought of what he would do if he ever saw Sebastian again. Regardless of what happened, he would make Sebastian pay for his transgression.

"He's not on the list," Thrask said, returning to the courtyard at a brisk jog. "But I spoke with a few of my people. A mage matching his description was seen in the company of Ser Alrik and two others. Here." He pressed a scroll to Hawke's hand. "It's speculation, the location of where he might have taken Anders. More than a few of Alrik's fellows suspect him of not following proper procedure."

"I owe you," Hawke said, unfurling the scroll. Darktown.

"Good luck!" Thrask called as Hawke all but threw himself across the yard and down the steps.

-

His boots sloshed through the sewage as he ran the dank tunnels. Every so often, he hit a dead end, stopped, had to squint in the dim light to read the makeshift map. His worst fears slowly became realized. He would get turned around too many times and it would be too late. But eventually the tunnels opened up, the chokedamp no longer threatening to suffocate him. Two Templars stood guard at a door. Hawke didn't hesitate.

His knives plunged deeply into their throats, neither man even realizing he'd been there. Emerging from the shadows, he kicked the door open. A wide, empty stone hall lay before him. He must've been miles under the city. The chill wind indicated that there was at least an alternate route out of there. He would have to find it after he found Anders. Checking each door, he found no opposition. However, the stench of rotting sewage and burned flesh clawed at his nostrils. His stomach roiled and he shoved away the nausea that threatened to halt his search.

The door at the end of the hall was shut tight. Bracing himself, he kicked in hard, then again, then rammed his shoulder against it. The lock finally gave way and he pushed the door open.

"HAWKE!"

Anders, chained to a table, Ser Alrik standing above him, holding a Tranquil brand. In the corner, a newly made Tranquil mage stood.

"I'm sorry," the Tranquil spoke, the eerie monotonous voice echoing off the stone walls. "But you cannot be in here while we are working."

Hawke let out a cry of rage, throwing himself violently at Ser Alrik. He slammed him backward, grabbing his wrist and smashing it against the wall. Three times, and finally Alrik's grip on the iron loosened and it fell. Furious, Hawke bashed his forehead against Alrik's, feeling either his or the Templar's blood trickle down his face. Alrik's eyes glazed in pain and Hawke brought a knee into the man's stomach. When he doubled, Hawke grabbed his shoulders and brought his knee up again into his face. He felt Alrik's teeth crack against his studded leather guard.

The Tranquil in the corner continued his soft protests, but it only fueled the fire in Hawke's veins. Alrik fell to the ground, trying to reach for either his sword or the iron to defend himself. Hawke stomped down a heavy boot, crushing the man's fingers and feeling a surge of justice as Alrik screamed in pain. He stomped again, breaking Alrik's nose. His face a bloody mess, Alrik rolled to his side, trying to scrabble away from Hawke. Hawke knelt, grabbing him roughly and turned him back.

"Don't!" Hawke screamed, punching him in the face. He straddled Alrik's "Don't. You. EVER. Touch. Him!" Each word was punctuated by another punch, alternating right and left fists until Alrik stopped moving. It was only then that Hawke heard another voice.

"Hawke! Love, please…"

Hawked looked up. Anders lay on the table, still chained, straining at his bonds. His eyes full of tears, concerned. 

"Hawke, he's dead."

Hawke looked down. A pool of dark red blood stained the ground. Alrik was nigh unrecognizable, his skull cracked, nose broken. His eyes, still open, wide and staring were scarlet now from the internal bleeding. His teeth had been almost all knocked out. And yet Hawke couldn't help but feel it had been over too soon. The man deserved to be punished, to be strung up and branded like the mages he tortured before. He spat directly in Alrik's motionless face and stood. 

"Where is the key?" he demanded of the Tranquil, who pointed at the far wall.

Hawke retrieved it and unshackled Anders' legs and arms quickly. Anders sat up at once and hugged him tightly, face pressed against his chest. Hands bloodied and bruised, Hawke gripped him, staining the torn white linen of Anders' shirt. They stayed like that, quiet and unmoving, simply holding onto one another.

"I thought that… maybe it was the end," Anders said, his voice muffled against Hawke's armor. "I would never again see you, hold you. That the next time you saw me, it would be like… it would be that I could never feel for you, never love you again. I would rather die than have that happen. To forget this feeling…. That would be a fate worse than any torment or death."

Hawke looked down, his own eyes blurred with tears. Anders reached up, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the blood from Hawke's forehead. He leaned up and kissed him roughly, grabbing the back of his head, holding him there. It was desperation, passion. Hawke pressed him back against the table, thrusting his tongue past Anders' lips. His lover willingly submitted, and Hawke found himself climbing over top him. They broke apart briefly, sharing a smoldering look before they kissed again, no less hungrily than before.

"I wanted," Anders gasped as Hawke's lips moved to his neck, biting, claiming him. "I wanted to believe you'd come for me. That you'd rescue me."

Hawke shoved the shirt up, lower his head again to capture a nipple between his lips. He sucked hard, and Anders arched his back, crying out.

"I love you," Hawke growled. "I won't ever let this happen again. Ever."

"I believe you, "Anders whispered. He leaned up on his elbows, reaching up to cup Hawke's face. "Please. I… I want to leave."

Hawke stepped down off the table. Aware of just how thin his lover was, though perhaps it was simply his vulnerable state, he kept a tight arm around him. Gingerly, barefoot, Anders stepped on the cold, hard stone.

"No," Hawke said. "Get on my back. I'll take us out."

He half-expected Anders to complain, but it seemed the usual spark had gone out momentarily and there was no argument as he climbed onto Hawke's back. Hawke gripped him under the thighs before turning to the Tranquil, who had knelt to look at Alrik's body.

"Do you know your way out?"

"Yes."

"Then leave. Go find Ser Thrask in the Gallows. You can tell him what happened."

The Tranquil man bowed his head, and Hawke carried Anders out, back through the sewers. Rats scurried out of his way. The exit emptied out from one of Kirkwall's cliff sides, and Hawke squinted in the bright light. The water was shallow, calm, and it took him only a moment to get his bearings. The docks. Careful where to plant his next step, he slowly made his way around the jutting rock and up a makeshift staircase.

Dockworkers stared, but Hawke didn't care. Covered in blood, muck and worse, he carried Anders, ignoring the looks, to the Hanged Man. Gently placing him down, but keeping an arm around him, he helped him up the steps. The bartender called out, but Hawke didn't respond, heading straight for Varric's suite.

"Hawke, I-" Varric stopped mid-sentence. Immediately he sprung to his feet to help them, guiding Anders to his bed.

Hawke shut and locked the door.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, what the hell happened?"

The story poured out of him in a tidal wave of anger. Sebastian's betrayal, the torture rooms under the city, Ser Alrik standing over an imprisoned Anders. Varric's jaw twitched, fists clenching. Hawke could see him itching to reach for Bianca.

"You can stay here as long as you like. I'll send Edwina up with a bucket of hot water and a good meal. And maybe a couple of stiff drinks."

Hawked nodded. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to some people. You okay, Blondie?" he asked, looking past Hawke to where Anders lay.

Anders nodded as well. "Thank you, Varric."

"Don't mention it."

Varric grabbed up his crossbow and leather coin pouch before heading downstairs, leaving them alone. Hawke immediately removed his armor, tossing it aside. He'd have to wash Alrik's blood from it later. Not too long after, Edwina knocked and brought the things Varric promised, not asking a single question aside from, "Anything else?"

"No. Thank you," Hawke managed. He didn't move until they were alone again, then stripped Anders of his dirty clothing.

Anders didn't protest the gentle treatment, Hawke slowly sponge bathing him, lovingly washing away the dirt and grime. He tended the wounds around his wrists and ankles with poultices that Varric kept on his shelves. Last, he washed Anders's face, kissing him softly on the forehead, where the mark of the Tranquil would have been. Anders took his hand.

"I love you."

Hawke finally smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. He pulled the covers down, slipped out of his boots and crawled into bed next to Anders who immediately curled up against him. Hawke wrapped his arms tightly around him.

"I love you, too," Hawke replied. "I promise this will never happen again."

"I know. I believe you."

They lay in silence until Anders's breathing evened out and he fell asleep. Hawke kept an eye on the fireplace, hoping that Varric was able to track Sebastian down. He would make him pay, he swore it.

For now, it was enough that Anders was safe.


End file.
